by Tara Grayce
Ryan barrels past me down the hall and thumps up the stairs. His footsteps shake the ceiling as he dashes for the stairs to the second story and his bedroom.
I follow at a slower pace, carefully closing the door to the hidden portal. We still have plenty of time to get to school. I clamber up the basement stairs, slide across the wooden floor in the kitchen, and head up the stairs to the second floor.
My bedroom here is less messy than might’ve been expected, considering I don’t have a maid to clean it for me. A little dusty, perhaps, but at least the clothes are put away.
I peek out the window overlooking cornfields and swathes of trees. As much as I love Averell, it is always a bit of a relief to step into this home. Here, I can be average. I don’t have the eyes of a kingdom resting on me. I can walk outside without worrying about drinking from the wrong river and angering a naiad or crushing a unicorn’s favorite grazing patch. In Averell, every step has to be weighed, even a casual stroll through the countryside.
Earth is blissfully safe compared to that. Sure, we can get in a car wreck on the way to school. But at least we won’t have to worry about starting a war while we are at it.
I find a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and clean underwear. I change into my Earth clothes, dump the clothes from Averell on my bed to change into after school. While my Averellian slacks and shirt look similar to Earth clothes, we don’t dare wear Averellian clothes outside this house. Not only would that risk mixing the realms too much, but Averellian items have a tendency to fall apart here, which would be embarrassing if my pants ripped in the middle of class or something like that. Sitting on my bed with the portal nearby, they’ll last well enough until I can wear them back into their own world.
Depending on how Earth and Averellian times move today, we might have to hurry after school to get back to Averell in time for the banquet tonight for the Flame and Stallion. Usually Averell moves faster. Sort of. The way Earth time and Averell time interacts isn’t something that can be figured out with a formula or be programmed into a clock. Thus the strangeness of my internal clock that must be a product of me having a mom from Earth and a dad from Averell.
Generally, Averell time moves faster than Earth’s. But how fast, that depends. Sometimes, a minute on Earth will be a minute and a half in Averell. But other times, a minute on Earth will be hours in Averell. We’ve discovered that the more we use the portal to go back and forth, the closer the times line up, as if the portal itself ties the two together. But even that isn’t an exact science or magic or whatever you want to call it.
Thankfully, Averellian days and years are slightly longer than Earth days and years, so it tends to even out in the end so that I am fifteen in both Earth and Averell, even though the exact date of my birthday may not line up in both places.
It’s weird. I know. A bit mind-bending. Honestly, it makes more sense if you don’t think about it too much.
After grabbing my backpack and packing a lunch, I’m ready to go. We climb into the family 1995 Chevy pickup and set out for the three-mile drive to school.
Contrary to Ryan’s worry, he parks in our designated parking spot twenty minutes before school starts. I grab my backpack, duck inside, and make my way toward my locker. A few others from my class are already there, and I nod to them as I walk by.
The other nice thing about Earth is being invisible. Well, not really invisible. More like, not being popular. Here, I’m not part of a sports team or club or anything like that since being a princess is enough of an extracurricular.
But I’m not one of the unpopular girls either. Thanks to being a princess, I know how to smile just right and be friendly to everyone, getting me into that happy middle where I’m liked by almost everyone. A good place to be, in high school.
At my locker, I glance around, searching faces, my stomach tight and my skin tingling. Is he here already? Will I have a chance to work up the courage to say hi before school starts?
I shake my head, tossing out thoughts of one particularly cute boy. Even if he is here, I’m not going to flirt with him. This is just a silly crush. Nothing more. It isn’t like my parents would let me even think about dating yet since I’m only fifteen.
I switch my books from my backpack to my locker and slide onto the floor to use a few minutes to work on homework. I pull out my English essay. Might as well slog through this. It takes ten agonizing minutes just to add a single sentence.
“Amy!”
Erin, my best friend—my best friend here on the Michigan side of the portal anyway—slides to the floor next to me. Her dark brown curls bob with her movement. Even sitting, she’s shorter than me. “You’re here early today.”
“Ryan managed to get up on time.” I add another sentence to the first draft of my English essay. This draft isn’t due until later in the week, but I have to work ahead. I won’t have a spare minute most evenings if the talks between the dragons and unicorns drag out, and we end up hosting formal banquets to try to mellow things in between the formal meetings.
“Brothers.” Erin shakes her head. She has two older brothers and one younger brother herself, along with two sisters. “I barely had time to tame my hair this morning because my brothers took so long doing their own hair. Seriously. It took forever.”
The bell rings. Erin pops to her feet and holds out her hand. “Time for class.”
I let her pull me to my feet. Time for English class.
I MAKE IT THROUGH ENGLISH class. After that, the rest of the classes are easy, though my favorite class is science, the last class of the day.
Mrs. Mindstra, our science teacher, clicks the projected presentation and lectures on basic physics. It’s just skimming the surface, since we will get physics again our senior year, but freshman year is an introduction to all the different branches of science.
Erin and I have claimed our usual seats in the middle of the row closest to the door. I glance around the room, but I purposefully don’t glance toward the back where a certain someone always sits with a few of the other nice guys from the boys’ junior varsity soccer team.
After the lecture, Mrs. Mindstra hands out a sheet with instructions for the group project for the school’s upcoming science fair. I half turn in my seat to grin at Erin. She rolls her eyes and fakes a silent groan. My grin widens. This is why we rock being friends. She takes care of all the English and history stuff, and I’m the math and science person. Whenever we possibly can, we wrangle working together on group projects.
I straighten in my seat and quickly read the instructions before Mrs. Mindstra even starts explaining them to the class. We are supposed to build a model to represent one of the basic physics formulas. Not too hard. Hands on, I like that. Due in a month, but we need a proposal of what we plan to build by Monday. Groups of three.
Wait, three? I re-read the instructions. Yes, groups of three. I bite back a groan. That means Erin and I have to work with someone else on this project. Or, even worse, Mrs. Mindstra plans to assign groups.
Assigned groups should be banned from school’s vocabulary. Permanently. Surely, she won’t force us to work with assigned groups for something as important as the science fair.
I smooth out the handout and focus on Mrs. Mindstra as she reads the instructions I’d just skimmed. When she finishes, she looks up at the class. “Get into groups of three, and you can start brainstorming your project.”
At least we get to pick our groups. I turn around in my seat and grin at Erin. Now we just need to find our third person before we are split up to fill other groups. That would be the worst disaster of all.
The classroom buzzes with chatter and the creaking of desks as my classmates shuffle around into groups. I don’t see any of the girls glancing around like they are still looking for a group to join.
As the chatter dies down, Mrs. Mindstra sweeps a glance over the room. “Anyone still missing a group?”
One hand raises into the air near the back of the room. I lean backwards to see aroun
d a group of girls, and my stomach flips a somersault and drops into my toes.
Brett Haverink.
My crush.
Chapter 2
We Decide to Build a Trebuchet
Brett isn’t the doodle-hearts-in-my-notebook kind of crush, nor am I that kind of girl. If he ever asks me out once I turn sixteen this summer, I’ll certainly say yes, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not the sort of girl to get all swoony and ditzy over some boy, thinking he has to be my soulmate. This is the sort of crush I fight every step of the way. I’m attracted to him. That’s it. Doesn’t mean I have to get all weird about it.
Still, it would be awkward having to do a group project with him. I’m bound to say something silly or have to fight stomach-flipping every time I look at him. This is science. My comfort zone. He definitely doesn’t fit there.
“Ah, Brett.” Mrs. Mindstra frowns. “Looks like Amy and Erin still need a third member of their group, if you don’t mind joining them.”
“Not a problem.” Brett grabs his stack of books, crosses the room, and pulls up a desk so he sits facing Erin and me. Erin flashes him a grin, and I force myself to do the same.
Act normal, act normal, act normal. Does my grin look too big? Too cheesy? What would someone who doesn’t have a crush on him say right now? “I’m, uh, sorry you couldn’t get into a group with your friends and got stuck with us.”
I duck my head and try not to groan. Did that sound like I don’t want him in my group? Ugh. Some princess I am. I can’t even sound diplomatic with a bunch of high schoolers. How am I ever supposed to keep my poise around dragons and unicorns and gnomes?
At least at the feast tonight with the Flame and Stallion, I will be in possession of all my faculties, not under the silliness-inducing powers of a crush. Maybe next time I have my tutoring session with Head Magician Ellis Melkor I could ask him if he has a charm against crushes. It would solve a lot of problems if I could just spell this crush away.
Until then, I will just have to go about this the old-fashioned, Earth way and ignore it.
Brett flashes a grin and stretches his arms behind his head. He’s at that perfect height of not too tall, but not too short with sandy brown hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes. He has that skinny, runs a lot look to him. “It’s fine. Really. I figure it’s going to work out in my favor. The two of you will do all the work while I sit back and relax.”
He isn’t helping those annoying butterflies in my stomach at all. I seriously need to ask for that crush-warding spell.
“Not a chance.” Erin shakes her head with just the right toss to imply she rolled her eyes without actually doing it.
“So, uh, what formula do you guys want to do?” I open my notebook and scan my notes of the past few days of class to avoid looking at Brett.
Across from me, Erin shuffles her notes and leans closer. “Not gravity. Everyone is going to be doing that one. Or acceleration.”
“How about the parabola of a thrown object?” Brett turns his notes around and taps a sketch he’d done. It’s a trebuchet launching a rock into the air. “We can build a trebuchet.”
Erin arches both eyebrows. “Cool. I think. Are you into medieval weapons or something like that?”
Brett shrugs. “I like history.”
I will have to remember to build the trebuchet according to Earth’s history and not Averell’s. Averell’s trebuchets were designed differently, since they operated using spells to keep them moving instead of a weight on the end and had the ability to toss far larger objects, along with spell globes.
“Sounds like a good idea to me.” I stay focused on Brett’s sketch of the trebuchet as I try to ask casually, “We can’t build this at school. We’ll have to meet up after school or a weekend at someone’s house.”
Something that could get tricky for me. I rarely invite people over. It’s complicated, with a portal to another realm behind a door in the basement and my parents gone in Averell most of the time. The times I’ve had Erin over, I’ve had to clear it with my parents in advance so that Mom and sometimes Dad can be there. We lock the door to the portal and make sure the whole family knows not to use the portal until one of us returns from Earth. Like I said, complicated.
Brett leans back in his desk and his chin drops. “Not my house. Sorry.”
I remember hearing that his parents are going through a messy divorce after his dad left his mother for another woman. His mom is fighting for custody of him and his siblings, all younger.
Before the silence can stretch too long and painful, Erin snaps her notes shut. “We can build it at my house. My dad has a whole bunch of tools and saws and stuff in our garage, and he’d be more than happy to help us with the power tools. But we can’t get a start on it until next week. My dad is out of town on a business trip until then.”
“We’ll have to plan out what supplies we need and put the proposal together before we can start building anyway. Do we want to stay after school or meet at someone’s house for that?” Brett has his gaze still focused on Erin. “I can’t stay after school tonight. But I’m free tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night works for me too, but both of my parents will be gone.” Erin turns to me. “How about your house?”
I quickly check my internal clocks, trying to figure out how Averell’s time will overlap with Earth’s time as best I can. “I think my parents will be home. I’ll have to ask them. But that would work.”
We’ll have to make it work. That’s how we do things when we live in two different worlds.
“That’s settled then. Your house after school on Friday.” Erin grins.
I force myself to grin back. Let’s just hope the dragons and unicorns cooperate so that my parents can get a night off.
AS SOON AS RYAN PARKS the truck in the driveway, I bail out and dash into the house, Ryan on my heels. Time in Averell has moved faster today than I hoped. We have to rush to get ready for the formal banquet tonight.
I dump my backpack in the kitchen, run to my room, and change into the Averellian clothes. Only minutes after arriving home, Ryan and I sprint for the basement and throw ourselves through the portal.
By the time I run up the never-ending stairs from the dungeon, I’m panting, and my side stabs. Next to me, Ryan huffs like he’s a baby dragon learning to breathe fire.
I peek through the peep hole. Dad’s study on the other side remains empty. I push the lever and open the secret door. Ryan and I tumble into the study, and Ryan closes the door behind us.
When I skid to a halt in my room, a maid is waiting, a dark blue dress spread out on the bed. Back in Michigan, it would be a dream prom dress with wide, full skirts made of layers of a clear, sparkling fabric over a bottom layer of silk. The bodice is tight and beaded with wide straps over my shoulders.
The ticking of my internal clock tells me we don’t have much time. I throw on the dress, and the maid zips it up for me. There isn’t time to properly curl and pin my hair, but with a few pins and hair ties, the maid puts it up into a messy bun and wedges my tiara securely into it.
I slip my feet into my strappy heels, and, with that, I’m ready. My breathing has even slowed to normal after my dash up the stairs from the dungeon.
When I step out of my room, I find Ryan leaning against the wall, waiting for me. Together, we head for the great hall. At the large doors carved with depictions of all the races in Averell from swooping dragons to galloping unicorns to tunneling gnomes, the guards nod at us and open the doors.
I wince when I see everyone is already seated at the large banquet table. Time to put on the full princess act. I hold my head high and step forward, my heels clicking on the marble floor. Ryan’s polished boots make a deep rhythm as he keeps pace.
Dad pushes back from his chair at the head of the table as I halt to his left, and Ryan to his right. “My children: Prince Ryanno and Princess Amarani.”
Ryan bows, and I curtsy. I don’t make eye contact or look too closely at the visitors yet. I nee
d to concentrate on acting regal and composed until I’m seated. As gracefully as I can manage in heels and a poufy skirt, I walk the length of the table and slip into the empty chair in between two of the unicorn diplomats while Ryan sits across from me between two of the dragons. Mom holds court at the foot of the table. This seating arrangement scatters our family so that we can interact with as many of the people here as possible.
Dad reclaims his chair at the head of the table. A quick glance around the table shows me that Ryan and I are the only young people here. We are here because this is Dad’s castle, but neither the Flame nor the Stallion brought their children. They must not have felt secure enough in their diplomatic negotiations to risk it.
To Dad’s right, the Stallion is in his human form. Well, I guess you should call it humanoid form, though that sounds too science fiction. To be accurate, it would be silvaran form. The Stallion’s dark black hair, the same color and texture as his mane in his unicorn form, falls to his shoulders and over his forehead into his eyes, nearly covering the circular splotch on his forehead that looks like a dark brown birthmark. When he bites into his salad, his buck teeth flash against his brown skin.
Across the table from him, the Flame of the dragons slices into her steak. She’s also in her human form, with sharp features, narrow eyes, and skin that has a faint sheen to it, almost like scales, yet not. Her long, black hair is loose down to her waist and streaked with blood red, natural highlights the same color as the scales of her dragon form.
When she glances up at me, she arches one perfectly curved eyebrow. For a dragon, her eyes are remarkably cool.
But that’s a dragon for you. Since they can eat anything they want, they get a little haughty about their own self-restraint.
